A Time to Protect
by Dryad7
Summary: How far does the bond between house-elf and master go? And how much stronger would it be if given freely? A strange elf, a strange wizard, a time to protect, and a time to effect.  NB: This story inspired by Rorschach's Blot's story in 'Odd Ideas.'  ON HIATUS
1. Prologue

_Time stopped._

He fell.

The green light hit him, and he fell.

Harry Potter, the greatest wizard of all, was dead.

Dobby couldn't save him.

Dobby tried.

The evil Voldie-wizard killed him, and Dobby couldn't stop him.

_The elf stood paralyzed as his world fell apart._

Harry Potter is dead.

Dobby has no friend.

THEY HARMED HARRY POTTER!

_In his rage, the elf—underestimated by all—slew fifty Death Eaters along with their master._

_He had nothing left to live for._

_In the aftermath, they discovered him holding the body of Harry Potter, eyes glowing in a righteous fury. As the few survivors of the Light gathered, his mind raced, realizations falling in line._

_Now, what happened next is no simple matter. Wiser minds than ours could not unravel the hows and whys of what Dobby accomplished. We do know a few things, though: _

_First, Harry Potter was no ordinary wizard. When he assisted Dobby in gaining his freedom from the Malfoys, rather than bonding Dobby to himself, he left him to his own devices, a happening unheard-of since the enslavement of house-elves._

_Second, Dobby was no ordinary elf. Once free of the dominating influence of Lucius Malfoy, he embraced his freedom, believing Harry's assurances of his value._

_Finally, it is universally acknowledged that house-elves will do the near impossible in order to obey and serve their masters._

_But their friends…?_

_That day, on a hill in Scotland, just outside of Hogsmeade, the strangest elf in an age formed the strongest bond in an era with the strangest wizard of his time._

_And Dobby the house-elf changed time. _

_With a snap of his fingers, the strange form of apparition used by house-elves transported his mind back twenty years earlier, to the very moment when Lucius Malfoy threw him a bloody, battered sock._


	2. In which a house elf cleans a house

Lucius Malfoy was a crafty man. He had engineered a clever trap for a political opponent, simultaneously distancing himself from a potentially incriminating artifact. Yes, he was very clever.

But this _boy_ had foiled his plan—and not through any cleverness or scheming, by blind, foolish, pigheaded Gryffindor _luck_! And then the boy had the audacity to both accuse him of engineering the entire matter (which he had, of course, but that was beside the point) and throw the sole piece of evidence at him! The filthy thing appeared to have spent some time in a sewer, with unidentifiable pieces of waste matter coming out of it.

He threw it behind him. "Listen, _boy,_" he hissed, drawing out each syllable with careful malice. "You—"

Interrupting, Dobby exclaimed in a tone of wonder and relief, "Dobby's sock!"

Shocked beyond words, Lucius Malfoy stared at his slave, wondering if _the whole world_ had gone mad-

...

Dobby's mind was not working very well yet. He thought: _Dobby's sock—Dobby is free again—Bad master threw the sock—Bad master is going to hurt Harry Potter—NO!_

In the time it took him to process this, Malfoy had realized just how clever Potter really was.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!" He made to draw his wand just as Dobby reached a conclusion.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" Releasing twenty years' worth of accumulated rage, Dobby the house-elf blasted Lucius Malfoy, influential millionaire, out the door and down a flight of stairs.

Harry stared, awestruck.

Dumbledore twinkled. "Lemon drop?"

….

Fortunately, (or unfortunately) the twenty-foot drop did not kill Lucius Malfoy. He did strike his head very hard, though, and lost most of his memory. As a result, he was relocated to the Long-term ward at St. Mungo's, where he spent most of his time fighting with Gilderoy Lockhart over whose hair was better-looking.

Narcissa Malfoy was not inclined to press charges, seeing that there were two reliable and famous witnesses that would unequivocally state that he had drawn first. In addition, her husband's motives in removing Dumbledore had been questionable, at best; not to mention that more than half the school's Board of Governors were thinking about pressing charges in spite of Lucius's impairment. Her son, however, was not so gracious, and vowed revenge on Potter when they returned to school.

…..

At King's Cross Station, Harry hefted his luggage and went to find his relatives. When he finally found them, he approached warily. The last time he had seen Vernon Dursley, said person had been attempting to keep him locked up and away from magic by any means necessary. Hence, caution was the rule of the day.

"Get in the car, boy," he growled, "we don't have all day." What Harry did not know was that his relatives were not here by choice. A certain house-elf had stopped by their house and told them in no uncertain terms that were going to go get Harry Potter while he prepared the house. Normally, the Dursleys would have argued this point, but after he nonchalantly levitated Dudley as a precursor to cleaning the couch, the arguments dried up suddenly.

The car ride was quiet. Vernon Dursley fumed in the driver's seat, Petunia pursed her lips to avoid setting him off while he was driving, and Dudley tried to shrink as much as he could to avoid getting the attention of the person who could evidently get magical creatures to do his bidding.

Harry was oblivious.

When they pulled into the drive, Vernon turned to Harry. "You go get that _thing _and tell it not to hurt us. Do you understand, boy?"

Puzzled, Harry lifted his trunk and Hedwig's cage and began to walk inside. Just on the doorstep, POP! And Dobby took his trunk irritably and said, "You should not be carrying these, Harry Potter Sir. Dobby will take them for you. Your supper is on the table."


	3. In which a girl hears a letter

Harry was in a reflective mood. This was shaping up to be a _very_ odd summer. When his relatives had eventually entered the house, Vernon had nearly blown a blood vessel at the sight of Harry, sitting at the table and eating as if he were a member of the family! One glance from Dobby had quelled him, though. After Harry was totally finished, Dobby escorted him up to his room. _That_ had been a surprise. Instead of the cluttered, cramped, prison-like space he had stayed in last year, it had been transformed to a warm, inviting space decorated in reds and browns. Harry was almost certain that the room was larger than it used to be; furthermore, the bed was most definitely more comfortable. When he asked Dobby how and why he had done all this, Dobby trotted off, murmuring something about 'magic' and 'ministry' and 'meddlers.'

So far this summer, Harry had _not_ been locked in his room; he had _not_ been forced to do all the chores; he had enjoyed three meals a day that were equal to or better than those from Hogwarts; and he had kept full access to all of his magical equipment. Hedwig had been free to take letters to his friends, and every time his uncle started to complain about her, Dobby would catch his eye and he would subside hurriedly. True, this summer was odd, but it was the Best Summer Harry had ever had.

…..

_At the Burrow_

Ronald Weasley enjoyed many things in life: chess, food, quidditch, food, sleeping… De-gnoming the garden, however, was _not_ one of those things. In fact, he might say that he loathed de-gnoming, almost as much as Snape loathed Harry. So it was no great surprise that he dropped the gnome he held as soon as he caught a glimpse of a snow-white owl. Dashing inside, he yelled, "There's a letter from Harry!"

Several things happened as a direct result of his exclamation.

First, Ginny turned a faintly nauseating shade of pea green. Percy looked up from his paper and asked, rather pompously, "And?" Immediately following this, a loud series of explosions and yelps emanated from the direction of the twins' room. That was not an unusual occurrence; however, it was a bit surprising when they tumbled (quite literally) down the stairs and unfolded themselves in various brilliant hues, mostly pink. Percy blinked owlishly at them, then, apparently deciding it wasn't worth mentioning, returned to his paper.

The younger members of the Weasley family gathered around Ron as he detached the letter from Hedwig's leg. He read over the letter quickly, and then frowned.

Fred and George could not contain themselves.

"So, Ron—"

"Brother—"

"Pal—"

"What news—"

"From Surrey?"

Ron glanced up distractedly. "Harry seems to have gotten a house-elf. The things he says in the letter don't make sense, though."

"What sort—"

"Of things?"

Ron handed the letter to them and attempted to surreptitiously remove himself to the upstairs. The twins ignored their mother's interception and scolding of their brother, choosing instead to read Harry's letter.

_Dear Ron (and Weasley family)_

_Thanks for your last letter. I'm very glad that Ginny is doing much better. She didn't have a very good year last year. Tell Fred and George not to be too mean, okay?_

"Oy!"

"We resemble that remark!"

They grinned and returned to the letter.

_You wouldn't happen to know anything about house-elves, would you? Last year the Malfoys' elf, Dobby, followed me around trying to 'save' me. (He was surprisingly bad at this.) Now, though, he's taken over my house and cows my relatives into submission. Is this normal behavior for house-elves? What should I expect him to do? Are house-elves normally dangerous?_

_Be sure to give Hedwig something when she gets there._

_Harry_

"Dangerous?"

"House-elves?"

"What in the world—"

"Is going on?"

Outside, a small girl who would normally have blonde hair and blue eyes (when she wasn't catching Whirling Snozzers) cocked her head. From the sound of this letter, Harry had a rogue Venusian masquerading as a house-elf on his hands. This was worthy of investigation.

…

Some might have called her odd.

Most, in fact, _had_ called her odd.

Her father called her special. Her mother had called her clever. Luna called herself Luna, and that was that.

Though many speculated that her mother's death had caused the oddness of herself and her father, the truth was that the Lovegood family had _always_ been what some called 'strange' and others, more honestly, called 'crazy', and still others (mostly members of the Lovegood family) called 'Veritan oscular transians.'

No one asked what that meant.

Thus, it was no great mystery that everyone thought they were insane. What no-one (except the Lovegoods) knew was that they were not, in fact, insane.

They were fae.

Not any specific type of fae, either. If a goblin heritage test had been done on them, it would have revealed traces of pixie, pech, selkie, banshee, glaistigh, merrows, tylwyth teg, and if you went back far enough, they were descended direct from Morgana the Fay herself!

The goblins wouldn't touch them, though. If asked, they'd shudder and glare at you for bringing the Lovegoods up.

No one asked about that, either.

So, if you took the Lovegood family as a whole, Luna was a relatively normal representative. Not that she was normal. Quite the opposite, in fact. Her specific 'gift', for lack of a better word, was called Sight. She was not a seer, nor was she a mystic.

She Saw truth.

This had led to a remarkable number of potential friendships being broken. After all, no-one wants their friends to know _all_ their secrets. Her gift did not only extend itself to truth about people. All of the creatures that no-one ever saw, Luna could See as if they were flashing billboards with neon chasing lights around them. This did not endear her to others, either. No-one likes being told that they are too ignorant or close-minded to see what's right in front of them.

Therefore, Luna was not surprised at her lack of friends at Hogwarts. Saddened, yes, but not surprised. Content to be known as 'Loony' Lovegood, she had withdrawn to her creatures and attempted to ignore the contempt and mockery of her classmates. When she had returned home, she had immediately delved into her research. Not for nothing was she a Ravenclaw. Thus, when she heard about Harry's plight, she decided that she would go visit him and See what exactly he had on his hands.


	4. In which girl and house elf meet

_In the years between the First and Second Blood Wars, several Creature Masters noticed disturbing trends in the creatures they studied. A few, such as the notable Xenophilius Lovegood*, referred to it as 'The Quickening'. Various creatures responded in different ways. The wild thestrals of Britain, as a whole, either relocated to Hogwarts or attached themselves to bereaved families. The Unicorns dispersed, going about singly instead of in herds. The most noteworthy changes, though, were in the more humanoid species. The Mermen of Ireland and the White Cliffs of Dover became irritable, frequently shrieking at the shores in frustration. (See 'The Fisherman's Plight, 1985, for more details.) The normally irritable and rowdy goblins became tightlipped and withdrawn, remaining mostly within the halls of their banks. The most striking difference, however, was found in the 'house-elves' of that time. A steady weakening in the master-servant bonds customary went unnoticed by most elf-owners, with eventual disastrous consequences._

_Note: In certain places, including Hogwarts and its environs, and the Welsh creature preserve, the status quo was maintained for over twenty years longer than anywhere else. See 'Magical Leylines: Their Effect on You' by Lanessa Greengrass for speculation as to the causes._

_-from the prologue to __FREE:__ a history of Elves, by Hermione Granger_

It was a remarkably quiet day at Number Four Privet Drive. Normally, Vernon Dursley would have begun reading the newspaper by now and loudly declaiming his opinions on anything and everything (mostly bad) and what he would do to fix anything and everything (send it to Hell, or at least the colonies.) (He was still living in the age of the British Empire.) If one were to glance inside Number Four Privet Drive, however, the sight that waited would be most surprising.

The situation was thus: Harry Potter sat at the table, eating an enormous breakfast that included sausages, eggs, toast, juice, and a rather large grapefruit. Hovering over him was Dobby, watching with round eyes to ensure that every bite of breakfast was eaten. Across the table sat Dudley Dursley, who also had a not-insubstantial breakfast. It was not as large as Harry's, granted, but it would have pleased any normal person. Of course, Dudley was no normal person, and he normally would have complained, but today he simply sat frozen, eyes tracking the house-elf, as he slowly ate. It had been a battle to teach him table manners, but after the seventh time his knuckles were rapped with a spatula, he had begun to make an effort.

On Harry's right sat Petunia Dursley, tight-lipped and shaking. Picking at her eggs, she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, hoping not to attract undesired attention.

On Harry's left—back to the wall—sat Vernon Dursley. He had refused to eat anything the house-elf made, so he sat and stared at his grapefruit, veins throbbing. Every thirty seconds he would change colors, in an ongoing cycle that had lasted since Harry returned.

First, he turned red. How dare that boy—here—this freakish creature—. Then purple. It's watching me—with its freaky eyes—how _dare_—. Finally, white. —.

And so on and so forth.

It was rather entertaining the first day. By now, it was simply monotonous. So Harry was glad when the doorbell rang. He sprang up to go get it—

"Harry Potter will sit down and finish his breakfast! Dudley will go get the door." Dobby eyed the aforementioned boy threateningly.

"Make Har—no wait, I'll do it! I'll do it!" Waddling as quickly as he could to the door, Dudley opened it and said, "May I hel—gah!"

Three seconds later, Luna Lovegood knelt over the curious creature. It was huge! Pulling out her enlarging glass and her notebook, she began to study the insensate mass. It was obviously not a dwarf-nor a troll-nor an ogre. In fact, Luna had never seen such a creature before.

"Daddy will be so pleased," she murmured absently. "A new species, and it's not even half-past nine! I wonder if he'll be able to see it."

"Hello? Who is it?" Hearing the voice from down the hall, Luna casually threw a 'Stupefy!' towards the downed creature and stalked into the kitchen, assuming the air of a prowling predator.

As she entered the kitchen, her keen mind quickly observed several facts:

One, Harry Potter was sitting at the table, and he did not appear to have Nargles (yet);

Two, there was another creature like the first sitting at the table with Him (more specimens! Yay!);

Three, a woman who might have been Harry's aunt was also sitting at the table, and she had the _worst _case of Snarling Teenylances that Luna had ever seen; and

Four, the house-elf actually _was_ a house-elf, and it seemed to be treating her as a threat.

From her position in mid-air, Luna calmly stated, "Hello, Harry Potter. I subdued your Grunting Dwoll. It's in the lobby, if you want it."

Harry set down his napkin and looked up at her. "Are you talking about Dudley? Also, I don't believe I heard your name."

"Oh," she said absently, "I didn't tell you. Why is Malfoy's house-elf in your house?"

"That's a long story. Why don't you—"

"That's alright. I love long stories. Is Dudley the name of your Grunting Dwoll? It seems fitting, but a little harsh. After all, would you like it if people called you Vertley? I should think not."

Vernon let out a sort of sobbing moan of suppressed rage, then carefully removed himself from his seat and began to leave the table.

"You is not clearing your place, Harry Potter's uncle!" Dobby snapped, still not removing his eyes from Luna. Vernon whimpered as he picked up his plate and placed it gingerly in the sink before attempting to remove his son from the hallway—unsuccessfully.

Harry finally noticed that Luna was floating. "I think you can let her down now, Dobby. She seems rather harmless."

"Seeming is not being is, Harry Potter sir! Who is she being, and why is she here?" Dobby said.

"Why don't we ask her that?" requested Luna, crossing her legs and assuming a seated position. "I think she might have something to say about it."

"I'm sorry, my name is Harry Potter. What's yours?"

"I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood."


	5. In which the author apologizes

To anyone who actually still pays attention to this:

Firstly, I must apologize for how long I have let this go. I began college this past year, and it was very tumultuous. These stories fell by the wayside.

My second announcement is related: I will be taking down Dobby. Not permanently; I have a massive reworking to do. I have grown as a person and a writer this past year, and completing the story as it was would be painful for me and perhaps impossible.

It will be going back up; the basic plotline will remain; but hopefully this time, it will be better written and more engaging.

Thank you for your perseverance and patience!

A brief preview of what is in store for the month of September:

_"Lily and James… I didn't want to believe it, Albus… Why couldn't he kill Harry?" The stern matriarch was rendered incoherent by her grief. _

_"We can only guess, my dear Professor." Albus Dumbledore said gravely. "We may never know."_

_"Can't you do something about his scar, Albus?" _

_"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy." _

_They left him on the doorstep of Number Four, Privet Drive, a letter laid atop his blankets. Harry Potter sighed and curled around his letter, not knowing that his parents were dead and he was alone, not knowing that he would be woken by the shrill screams of his aunt in an hour, not knowing that all across the country, in hidden enclaves people raised their glasses to him- "To Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived." _

_This story, though, is not about Harry. Although it was true-Harry _was_ alive-the story that was told, wizard to wizard, friend to friend, all across England, was false. _

_Harry Potter was never hit with the Killing Curse. _

…

Frank and Alice Longbottom were a very normal married couple. They lived in a small cottage near Longbottom Manor (home to Lady Augusta Longbottom, matriarch of their clan, and Frank's mother) with their small son Neville. Frank worked with a nearby potions supplier as an herbologist. He was not exceptional, but he was decent, and they were relatively well-off.

Their closest friends were James and Lily Potter; thus, they were quite excited when their sons were born on the same muggy night in July. At least, the men were. The women were rather… distracted.


End file.
